


A force of mind and circumstance

by dancey94



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Declarations Of Love, Episode: s01e01 Apéritif, Love, M/M, Psychoanalysis, Resistance is Futile, Soulmates, references to Greek mythology
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-25
Updated: 2017-04-25
Packaged: 2018-10-23 22:03:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10728159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dancey94/pseuds/dancey94
Summary: Imagine a world in which Will and Hannibal are destined for each other before they even meet. Imagine how differently the scene in Jack's office would have gone. Imagine how many deaths could have been avoided.Now sit, relax and let yourself be carried to that world...





	A force of mind and circumstance

Will Graham woke up when the alarm clock by his bed went off. It was just after six. Another ordinary day, that was the idea. Will would brush his teeth and splash water over his face to fully wake up, a daily ritual completed with a cup of strong black coffee. At that point in his life, Will did not bother to analyse the meaning of his dreams; he would only open the notebook and wrote down everything he managed to remember. He threw a glance at the empty basket by the fireplace and left the house with a sigh. Another ordinary day, that was the idea.

On his way to the classroom, he was informed that the head of Behavioural Science Unit, Jack Crawford, requested his presence in two hours in his office. It was not particularly surprising, since Will had begun working in the field again just recently and he considered it polite and thoughtful that Crawford wanted to make sure he was alright. That was what he assumed it was all about.

The lecture went fine, like any other day. One of the students dared to ask a question, to which Will answered shortly but sufficiently. Around ten, Will let the students go and started packing his things. He was grateful that Jack gave him some time after his lecture before he needed to show up in his office. That offered him some time to actually get a cup of fresh coffee rather than the despicable fake version sold in the vending machines. Will detested the taste of either too sweet or too sour coffee from the paper cups.

He knocked on the door to Crawford’s office and entered when the man invited him inside. There was another man sitting by the desk and Will read it as something suspicious. The man was wearing light-coloured clothes – a beige cotton vest with a white shirt underneath and a similarly beige jacket over it. His trousers were a fair shade of gray, not bringing any attention. It seemed almost as if he wanted to blend in and that the choice of clothes was purposeful. Will felt that it was not the man’s usual attire.

“Will. This is doctor Hannibal Lecter. He’ll be consulting on your case,” Jack announced and watched Lecter extend a hand with a warm smile. Will shook it, absorbing the warmth it offered, and then, when the man finally spoke, he froze.

“It will be a pleasure working with you,” Hannibal assured. His voice was carrying a note of strength and confidence, with just a hint of subtleness. Immediately, Will detected an accent, which, to be honest, he found lovely, especially with the pronounced hissing fricatives. Yet, there was something more about the man’s voice. It was the fact that it had appeared in all of Will’s dreams ever since he was a teenager.

Before Will could respond, Hannibal turned to Jack and asked how many confessions they had received so far. The two men approached the board with the map and the photos of the victims on it, while Will, overwhelmed by a recent discovery, sat down in a chair, put down his mug and dropped his briefcase.

Crawford went on explaining that the people who called didn’t know any details, which made them unreliable. Meanwhile, Will stared at Hannibal, who kept analysing the board. The man remained utterly oblivious to what had just happened and what it meant for both their lives. Will couldn’t stay mute for the next few months and avoid talking whenever he was in proximity of the man. Hannibal would find out at some point anyway and Will decided that better sooner than later.

“Tasteless,” he commented on the photos taken at the crime scene and posted online.

That was the moment of illumination. Will didn’t look in Hannibal’s direction but the brief, barely noticeable pause, indicated that the man knew.

“Do you have trouble with taste?” Hannibal asked nonchalantly, pretending Will was a complete stranger to him.

Graham glimpsed at Lecter from behind his glasses and, then, swiftly turned his head to Jack, checking if the man had already caught on. It was not his intention to have that dance right on front of his new boss, especially not when they were supposed to discuss hideous crimes of a cannibal.

“My thoughts are often not tasty,” Will replied after a moment of consideration. He was aware he would have to mind his words even more now.

“Nor mine.” Lecter leant closer to the board, acting incredibly interested and engaged in the investigation. For Will it was obvious that they had just established a code for communication. “No effective barriers.”

“I build forts,” Will stated and reached for the mug. He hoped it didn’t look as suspicious to Jack as it felt to him.

“Associations come quickly.” Hannibal’s voice was tinged with pride.

“So do forts,” Will concluded and put down the mug.

Crawford stood up to pin something onto the map. At the same time, Lecter reached for his own coffee, as he sat down in the chair next to Graham. Before he took a sip, he glanced at Will and blinked a few times in astonishment. There they were – two men who had been destined to meet and who knew each other’s voices before they knew each other’s faces. It was the miracle of their society. It was called a soulmate.

There was also another reason why Hannibal kept his gaze on Will.

“Not fond of eye contact, are you?”

The question had Will sigh loudly. It was neither the time nor the place for having that conversation, their first real one. Will focused on the wall in front of him as he spoke.

“Eyes are distracting. You see too much, you don’t see enough. And it’s hard to focus when you’re thinking, um,” Will forced himself to look Hannibal in the eye, “’Oh, those whites are really white’ or ‘He must have hepatitis’ or ‘Oh, is that a burst vein?’” The last sentence made Hannibal snort and look down for a brief moment. It occurred to Will only after a while that he was checking him out. “So yeah, I try to avoid eyes whenever possible,” he concluded and called for Jack.

Crawford sat back in his chair behind the desk, apparently oblivious to whatever was happening right then in his office.

Doctor Lecter used the moment of silence and the fact that Will could not slap him in front of his boss. They were testing each other and, as much as Hannibal knew how cruel and unjust his next words may sound, he was going to be honest and straightforward.

“I imagine what you see and learn touches everything else in your mind. Your values and decency are present, yet shocked at your associations, appalled at your dreams.” That was enough to have Will’s attention. “No forts in the bone arena of your skull for things you love.”

Will looked Hannibal straight in the eyes and frowned. He was glad for the shield on his nose that was the pair of glasses.

“Whose profile are you working on? Whose profile is he working on?” The second question was directed at Crawford, who let it go that far.

“I’m sorry, Will.” Graham knew Hannibal was not remotely sorry. “Observing is what we do. I can’t shut mine off any more than you can shut yours off,” Hannibal explained with a shy smirk, as he was reaching for the cup of coffee. Graham was fuming at the smug expression on the man’s face and the accuracy of his statement.

“Please, don’t psychoanalyse me. You won’t like me when I’m psychoanalysed.” The words sounded like a warning, a serious one.

“Will,” Jack wanted to calm the stirring but it was already too late.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go give a lecture on psychoanalysing.” Will emphasised the last word as he stood up and reached for his briefcase. That meeting was over. He would not let himself be humiliated and would definitely not continue that discussion with a stranger who was supposed to be his soulmate.

He trotted out of the office and headed for the bathroom. There, he splashed some water over his face to calm down.

The voice had been with him his whole life and now he knew to whom it belonged. He thought it unlikely to get any worse than that. His soulmate was a pretentious man who seemed to be hiding something and who figured him out quicker than he could order a coffee. Then again, Lecter must have been listening to Will’s voice as much as he had.

So what should the person who hated their soulmate do? They were supposed to be destined for each other, no? They were supposed to match in every possible way and agree on practically every issue. So what was Will’s problem? Why did he get a soulmate who didn’t match?

The facts about his failed family came to mind and for the thousandth time he began writing his mental essay on how broken he was, when the door to the restroom opened and a man entered. Not just any man; it was _the man_. The man in beige clothes, the devil disguised as a snake.

“What are you doing in here?” Hannibal asked with a smile too polite for Will’s taste.

“Enjoying the smell of urinal cake. What do you think?”

“I don’t think you’re supposed to be this…”

“Charming?” Will prompted.

“Unaccommodating.”

The word made Will cringe. He didn’t want to meet anyone’s expectations, especially not the man in beige’s. There was a sense of failure growing inside Will as he considered that he might have been on the path to reject his soulmate, which was not something people did. In fact, Will wondered if anyone had ever done that, if that was even allowed.

“I realise we started off on the wrong foot but I hope we can get past that. I would apologise for my analytical ambush but I know I will soon be apologising again and you’ll tire of it eventually. I’ll only say that the truth is a powerful weapon and I seem to have miscalculated.”

Will didn’t expect apologies. People like Hannibal did not apologise even when they were truly sorry. Graham fit that pattern so he understood. He nodded, indicating that he was ready to forgive and re-establish the first impression of the man.

“No. You hit the nail on the head. I just wish you hadn’t done it in front of the head of Behavioural Science Unit. And not during our first meeting.”

Both men were aware that Crawford paid little attention to their interaction and would definitely not infer that there was something between them other than mutual distaste.

“Perhaps we could start over? My name is Hannibal Lecter. It’s a pleasure to meet you for the first time.” The man reached for Will’s hand and placed a gentle kiss on top of it, which made Will gulp. He wasn’t afraid of anyone coming in and witnessing the scene, more the softness of Hannibal’s lips on his skin and the speed with which he forgot about their little exchange in Jack’s office.

“Doctor, I heard. A psychiatrist, perhaps?” Will joined the game.

“Yes, I’m afraid. Is it that obvious?”

“Not at all,” was Will’s reply muffled by a snort. “And there’s nothing to be afraid of. Unless you project your patients’ problems onto you and the people around you.”

“No. I only have a tendency to analyse everything around me. Comes with the job description, I believe.”

“I’m allowed to carry a gun, just so you know.”

Will thought it was just an illusion, his mind playing tricks on him, but he noticed a flash of arousal in Lecter’s eyes.

“I’m quite good with knives,” Hannibal responded with a smile. It was supposed to be a challenge and Will appreciated it. It was not going to be easy between them and Graham was grateful for that. He had never imagined meeting his soulmate and proposing at the first sight. Those things took time, or so he was told. The attraction to the man’s mystery grew with every second. He was almost angry at himself for the change in attitude.

“You cook?”

“I’ve received quite a few compliments.”

“And I see that modesty is not one of your strong points.”

“I can be modest when it’s advisable. But I prefer to emphasise my strengths. Which is why I’m inviting you for dinner. Tonight, if that’s alright with you. You’d be able to judge my skills in the kitchen yourself.”

It was a tempting offer, one that Will was not going to decline. And it didn’t matter that it was made in the men’s room. Hannibal Lecter was already becoming interesting. Perhaps it was the magical aspect of the man being in a way linked to Will.

“Fine. Give me your phone.” Will stretched out his arm towards Hannibal who narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “I’ll give you my number so that you can text me the address.”

 

* * *

 

He was standing on Hannibal’s doorstep exactly at seven. It was not very convenient that they lived in different states. Then again, Will had to commute to work at Quantico which was also in another state. He could make it work if he wanted to. The question was: did he really wanted to or did he feel that it was in a way expected of him? The popular opinion was that the soulmates were a perfectly matching couple who had been hearing each other’s voice in their dreams and on the day they met, they practically fell in love at the first sight.

Will wondered what had gone wrong with him and Hannibal. Was it a matter of Will’s reluctance or had someone made a mistake? Was there even someone responsible for when the couple did not match? What was the procedure behind it? Will had never given that a thought because he never truly believed he would meet his soulmate.

The door opened mere seconds after he had rung the bell. Hannibal had been expecting him.

“Good evening, Will.”

Graham only nodded in response, overwhelmed by the fact that he was now hearing the voice from his dreams and seeing the face it belonged to. He still had difficulties processing that the man before him was supposed to be his soulmate. _Why? Why him?_

Hannibal took Will’s coat to hang it and led the man further inside. The house was astounding. Then again, Lecter was a psychiatrist and doctors earned quite a lot of money. He could afford an interior designer. Will, on the other hand, had only the most important things in his house – books, fishing rods, and the most basic furniture. There was also the piano which Will had wanted to sell but never actually got to do it. It didn’t take that much space so it was not a priority.

Hannibal led the way to the dining room, where the table was laid and there were two glasses of wine waiting for the men.

“Shall we? Before dinner is served.”

Lecter handed Will a glass and they clinked. The wine had an excellent taste – not too sweet, not too bitter – and it helped with the nerves that Will knew were inevitable in a situation like that. How often do you meet your soulmate for the first, alright, the second time?

There was no way Will wouldn’t have noticed how Hannibal’s eyes kept wandering over his body, following the curves underneath the shirt and the sharp edges of his jaw. To his surprise, it didn’t make him feel like a prey that was stalked. Thanks to the training he had received back when he was an FBI agent, and the natural instinct of self-preservation, which he had exercised and brought to perfection, Will could assess the danger and was able to defend himself effectively.

“You’ll have to forgive me but I’m a bit rusty when it comes to dating,” Will apologised.

“I share the sentiment.”

“Saving yourself for the one?” The humorous remark was supposed to relieve the tension but Will quickly realised his mistake. “Shit. Sorry. I warned you.”

Hannibal nodded with a reassuring smile in response.

“As you can imagine, this is my first date with my soulmate as well. But let’s not ascribe a specific protocol to our meeting. I believe it will make things easier. Don’t you?

“Sure. Just act natural.” The second remark was uttered quietly, more to himself than to his host.

“That would be advisable,” Hannibal confirmed as quietly.

Will sipped the wine and sat down when Hannibal pointed him a chair.

“I’m afraid I’ll have to leave you while I go get our tonight’s dinner.”

Will honestly didn’t mind. He hoped to use that time to further investigate his surroundings. The dining room could tell less about a person than, say, a bedroom; still, Will thought that for a great cook, that Lecter advertised himself to be, it was equally important where he prepared the meals as where he ate them. Paying attention to the details seemed to be the most prominent of Hannibal’s features so far. The meticulous layout of the items on the table was evidence of that.

Then, there was the painting, which had caught Will’s eye as soon as he’d entered the room. It was another indicator of Hannibal’s personality.

The host returned sooner than Will expected, which resulted in him being caught gaping at Leda’s bare womanhood. Will’s cheeks and ears turned red for no apparent reason.

“Are you familiar with the story of Leda and the Swan?” Hannibal asked as he was setting the plates on the table.

“I’m torn between giving you a chance at seducing me with the power of Greek mythology and completely blowing this date.”

“You won’t ruin our connection by proving to be knowledgeable. On the contrary, I appreciate educated people, especially the ones who can think for themselves and not only recreate what had been put inside their minds.”

“Then I feel compelled to let you know that I know mythology quite well.”

Lecter nodded with a smile and sat down next to Will by the table.

“The story of Achilles has always fascinated me,” Hannibal spoke nonchalantly while cutting the piece of meat in half.

“You’re a psychiatrist, you indulge in the stories of ancient heroes, you cook,” Will summed up and swallowed a mouthful with genuine delight. “Quite well, I have to add.”

Hannibal modestly bowed his head at the compliment.

“What else is there?”

“I can’t reveal everything on the first date. What would we be doing for the rest of our lives?”

The question made Will choke on the wine. The rest of their lives. That was the idea. They were soulmates and that concept entailed being together till the very last breath. Will could not be more pleased. He was still on the lookout for the first signs of falling on love; he even wondered if putting something in the food was beneath Hannibal.

“Talking about mythical lovers whose ashes meet in the eternal embrace,” Will suggested, realising that his host might find the vision tempting, and regretted putting it forward immediately.

“Discussing aesthetics and ethics, perhaps?”

“I’d have to be quite vague on the details, I’m afraid.”

“I could provide mental help after you escape the dark corners of your imagination.”

That was exactly why Crawford had Hannibal involved in the first place – out of fear for what might happen to one little frightened mind of Will Graham. It seemed vulgar and not entirely necessary. Will believed he could navigate the minutiae of the most violent cases assigned to him without the outside help.

“I’ve been coping just fine, thank you.”

“Why do you resist, I wonder. What are you afraid of? Or is it that your life has become so comfortable that you find any changes undesirable even if they could turn out beneficial?”

Will grimaced at the word “comfortable,” which his life was anything but. He could not deny, however, the part about him having got used to it being that way. Will’s life was an unbreakable chain of routine – going to work, dealing with his students, who were very often resistant to knowledge. He had his little house and the lake nearby. It was cosy and surprisingly convenient.

For a while, he even owned a dog –  a stray which he’d found wandering by his house one day. Will was torn between being dejected and glad that the dog’s real owners kept looking for their pet until they knocked on Will’s front door. Graham never got to throw out the basket, the same way he never got to sell the piano. He realised his house was a storage of sentimental garbage.

It was also true that he couldn’t possibly know what twisted minds were waiting for him out there. As Will kept reading daily news, it appeared to him that the killers were evolving into more and more distorted versions of his worst nightmares.

It was only the stubborn side of his that kept repeating that he’d always faced the problems alone. He’d never required any help. Why should that change now?

“What about you? Why do I get the impression that you’d marry me in a blink of an eye if I agreed? Are you that desperate?”

“Aren’t you? We’ve heard each other’s voices for a great part of our lives. Weren’t you even a little bit curious as to who I was?”

The question was not entirely unfounded. Will remembered all the impressive, intellectual remarks he’d wanted to understand so badly he pursued an academic education. He sensed some sort of sorrow filling most of his dreams and he was desperate to alleviate it. His head was messed up enough; he didn’t need any additional burden.

There was also something terrifying in the voice that kept haunting him, although he could not put a finger on what it was. He kept seeing only a shapeless shadow, a mere concept, and the idea of falling in love with that seemed insane. Will found it difficult to match the face to the sound, even after he’d met the man he was destined to love.

“I suppose I have yet to process the fact that the voice in my head has a face and a name,” Will explained.

“I longed for you without knowing who you were. Or rather, I’ve learnt you by heart.”

The confession was overwhelming. Will closed his eyes with a sigh. The taste of wine lingered in his mouth. Suddenly, their love story appeared tragic to him. He wondered what would happen if he left right then and never got in touch with Hannibal again. As he looked at his host, he marvelled at how unmoved Lecter seemed to be, probably thinking of something else, undisturbed by Will’s silence.

“Do you believe you can learn to love someone?” Will finally asked.

“Perhaps. But that kind of love is not commonly desired. People want to have the certainty that their loved ones are with them because of their personality, because they are unique people.”

“How about loving someone _despite_ their personality?”

“I’d rather have you accept everything that I am,” Hannibal replied, then added, “Is that what you expect form me – to overlook your disadvantages?”

“No, I-”

Suddenly, it all clicked.

 _Everything that I am_.

Everything that Hannibal was.

Will had been writing down every dream, every word he managed to remember for the last twenty years. He had enough material to publish a multivolume biography of his soulmate, yet the man remained a shadow. It was only when Lecter expressed a wish to be accepted in his entirety that his clear image emerged in Will’s head.

Hannibal’s words had been slipping into Will’s mind, shaping and determining his proclivities since he was a teenager. He didn’t have a chance to notice when and how he accepted Hannibal in his life because it happened slowly, gradually. He had fallen for Lecter before he even met him.

“I want you to respect me and treat me as your equal,” Will demanded and reached for the glass of wine. He sipped the crimson liquid while maintaining eye contact with Hannibal, who licked his own lips.

“I will worship you. I will give you everything you desire. I will show you the most beautiful places on Earth. We will travel. We will dazzle everyone with the power of our love. We will be partners.”

The promises made Will smile victoriously. He had as much power over Hannibal as Hannibal had on him. Will decided to take advantage of the fact that they were destined for each other, he decided to embrace it. Hannibal’s love might have been the thing he missed in his life, something he had been cultivating inside and waiting for it to grow until it would finally yield.

“How would you describe what you feel for me now?” Hannibal asked, fiddling with the stem of his glass. Will was aware of Hannibal’s intentions but he never revealed his own.

The silence lasted mere seconds, causing great tension and hesitation. Hannibal laid his cards on the table and was now the one being in the dark, although Will suspected that it all had become clear – they were going to fulfil their fate.

“What you make me feel is beyond my conscious ability to control or predict. Or negotiate. A force of mind and circumstance.”

“Love,” Hannibal whispered contentedly.

 

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> ...not that different from what we've seen in the show, was it?


End file.
